Sight
by xxIAmTheSkyxx
Summary: Being born blind has serious disadvantages. Among those are clumsiness and crippling self-esteem. Also, bitterness. You just start hating everybody else because they can see and you can't. I was like that, but one day I literally ran into someone who would change it all.
1. Prologue: Senses

**Prologue: Senses**

Sight.

Sound.

Touch.

Smell.

Taste.

* * *

Light.

Music.

Texture.

Fragrance.

Food.

* * *

Darkness.

Silence.

Dullness.

Emptiness.

Blankness.

* * *

How do you see the world? What blinds you? What guides you?


	2. Bitter

_Another new story; whoo! :D I'm really rolling these out, aren't I? I have a feeling I'm going to regret working on so many things at once later down the line…anyway! Hope you like this one!_

**Ch. 1: Bitter**

I absolutely hate sleeping.

You're probably scoffing right now, thinking, _You kidding? Sleeping is the best thing since TV shows and video games. And besides, sleeping is good for you, right? Our parents are totally trying to kill us, making us wake up so early._

Oh, I've got no argument against that. Your parents _are_ totally trying to deprive you of sleep. That's why they make you go to bed before ten at night so you can wake up at six in the morning. They're trying to make us dark broody teenagers _see the light_. It's complete madness! The horrors you guys go through; good Lord, I can't even imagine.

…

Good God, I can't keep up this façade.

You know what; I actually envy you. That's right; you heard me. I envy you lazy-ass teenagers whose parents make you go to bed early and wake up early to "see the light". Am I making sense? Did I completely weird you out? Listen, at least when you wake up, you see _something_. I, on the other hand, am asleep in the dark, and awake in the dark. Always. No sun, no light, no color, no shapes. _Nothing_. If that wasn't a big enough hint, let me spell it out for you.

I'm blind.

…No, I don't mean figuratively! I mean it for real – I'm totally blind. I can't see anything. My eyes don't work. They're broken. Understand me now? Are we on the same page?

Good, because I don't want to explain any further than that.

_Did you go blind at some point in your life?_ you might be wondering now. _Like because of an accident or a sickness or something?_

Ha! Don't I wish. I've been in the dark for over eighteen years. Or – if you're too stupid to figure it out or you're just thinking too hard – my entire life. From the minute I was born, I was in constant darkness.

Why did that happen? Tch, heck if I know. Maybe it was genetics. Maybe it was because my mom was a heavy drinker. Or maybe God was just an asshole like that. Who knows. Life just sucks.

And don't give me that _God had you born blind for a reason _crap. I can't do anything when I'm blind – I can't see! How the hell am I supposed to accomplish anything when I can't see anything? What can I do for God living in constant darkness? No, before that – _why_ would I do any favors for God in the first place? He's the reason I'm blind! If God has this so-called "undying love" for everyone, then where was it all when I was born?

Screw it; I can't talk about this anymore. I don't even remember how I got off onto this stupid tangent.

…Oh, right. Sleep and how I hate it. Because it constantly reminds me that I can't see. That's what it was. That's still totally true, by the way.

Though the only good thing about sleep for me is that whenever I do, I always hope that I would suddenly be able to see when I wake up. That amounts for more disappointment for sure, but hoping against hope isn't a bad thing, you know. Even if it is totally implausible.

…Ergh, it's getting late. If I'm seen awake at this hour I'm going to earn myself a two-hour long lecture about how I should never neglect sleeping at healthy hours. I guess that that's all the brooding I'm going to do for today.

Vanitas out.

* * *

_Well, there you go. Hope you enjoyed that. :) It's my first time writing Vanitas in first person, so…if it wasn't all that great, I apologize._

_Anyway, this was my first chapter to probably (hopefully) one of the deepest stories I'll write. Please let me know what you think! This chapter was a character set up chapter for Vanitas. Next chapter we dive into plot, so it'll be much longer._

_And please understand that I'm not anti-Christian; heck – _I'm_ a Christian. And I have nothing against blind people – I'm legally half-blind as well. I'm just leaving room for his character to develop. Please understand that before writing any hate reviews._


	3. Luck

_All right; it's finally time for plot! Yay! XD I took long enough on this, huh? Enjoy chapter two, everybody!_

**Ch. 2: Luck**

You want to know something else annoying about not being able to see?

Running into things.

Well, duh. That's a given, right? You're bound to run into things when you're blind – even when you've got a guide dog or a long cane or whatever other navigational aide there is. You walk with a cane, you hit something, and you stumble. That's the general order, isn't it? As most of you can and probably do tell, that's really, really irritating.

But worse than running into objects is running into people. Dear God, don't even get me started on them. You run into somebody, and they expect you – yeah, you; the blind one – to apologize. Seriously, what kind of bullshit is that? That's not how things are supposed to work! Hello, idiot; you're the one with working eyes! _You _watch where you're going, damn it. Why do all these people have to be such asses when it's _their_ fault, not mine?

…

Okay, fine. I'll admit; not everybody is like that. But I swear – about fifty percent of the time, I run into someone who blames me for something that wasn't even my fault. That makes _absolutely_ _no sense_.I'm seriously weeping for the sake of humanity here. Yeesh.

So where was I before this?

"Vanitas, my boy! Are you up yet?"

I started. Oh, right; I was in bed. Lying in bed cursing my life was one of my few hobbies. Hey, everybody needs one, don't they? Look, when you're blind your options are pretty limited!

My favorite by far is listening to music (though I can't do that very often; when you can't see you tend to have to go by ear). It just sort of disconnects me from life and reality, and it helps me forget – forget about my life, my problems, everything – and just lose myself in the world of music. At times like that, I'm glad I wasn't born deaf, too.

But I digress.

"I don't know," I called back, putting my hands behind my head. "I still don't see the sun, Gramps. Should I be awake now?"

That's what I call my grandpa. Everyone else just calls him by his real name – Xehanort. Stick a title in front of it like _mister _or _sir_ every now and again, and you have him.

He's been taking care of me ever since my parents died in a car accident when I was nine (though honestly I'd sort of seen that coming; no pun intended). I have an uncle too, but I don't know too much about him since I never met the guy. Gramps said he was always too busy with work or something like that. What was he, anyway; the CEO of Departure, Inc.? There was no way he could be that busy otherwise.

"Now, now; what have I told you about that attitude, Vanitas?" I heard him admonish me from right next to my bed. "Being bitter won't make anything better."

I flinched involuntarily. For an old guy, he sure could move like a freaking ninja. I didn't even hear him open the door to my room. He did this to me all the time and I was still caught by surprise. Ugh. Having your own grandpa sneaking up on you and catching you off-guard like that is pretty embarrassing.

But I'm going to leave myself a shred of dignity and just think that I forgot to close the door to my room last night.

"Whatever," I said as I kicked off the heavy bed covers and sat up. I glared in the general direction of his voice. "Why do you want me up right now, anyway? It's a Saturday. We do jack shit on weekends."

"Language!" he chided sternly. "What have I told you about cleaning that dirty mouth of yours?"

"A lot, I think. Don't remember too well." I stretched and then propped my arm up on one knee. "Can't do too much about it, Gramps; I think it's permanent residue. So anyway, why did you want me up again?"

"Ah, yes!" He brightened up instantly. Talk about eccentric. "It's a lovely day out, my boy. You can't stay cooped up inside on such a beautiful day!"

I groaned inwardly. He always got like this on sunny days. He knew full well that I couldn't see this so-called "beautiful day", but he always insisted on dragging me outdoors so that my skin could get some much-needed Vitamin D. He always tells me that it's "whiter than fine-powdered milk" or something also similarly pale, but unfortunately for him that sort of comparison kind of loses its meaning to a blind person. I don't know how white powdered milk is, so it never really has any impact on me. Why do people always forget that?

But he wasn't lying – it sure felt like a sunny day. I could feel the warmth of the sun on my bare skin through the window that I knew was at my other bedside. Now there was just one more thing I needed confirmed before letting my old man drag me out of this townhome.

"Is it windy today?" I listened carefully for the howling of any sort of wind blowing around the house. I didn't hear anything, but that didn't necessarily mean that there was no breeze.

I don't know; for some reason I've always liked the wind. It at least makes it feel as if I wasn't walking through a perpetually airtight box everywhere I went. A change in the environment in that sensual way was another nice indication, too, that I didn't live in some stagnant space. Change of scenery for you, change of climate for me. Win-win. Kind of.

…Okay, not really; it still sucks. But I have to compensate somehow.

"A wind?" There's a brief two-second pause before he continues with, "Hmm, I can see the trees' branches swaying about. Seems like a light breeze."

A light breeze. That was enough for me. It was all I needed to know – or it would've been, but you don't know my grandpa like I do. He could possibly be lying to me to get me out of the house – he knew I was a sucker for windy days. And believe me; he's done it once before, and by the time I'd realized it I had no way to get back inside. He can be an annoyingly slick bastard in that sense.

"Open the window, Gramps," I said shortly, crossing my arms. "I want proof."

"Hoho, so you've learned from before, eh?" I heard him chuckle. "Seems like that trick won't work on you anymore." His voice was moving to the foot of my bed, from where the window latch could be reached. I heard a sharp metallic _click! _ as he unlatched the window and smoothly slid it open.

Almost immediately I felt the chilly air brushing against my skin. Like he'd said, the breeze felt relatively light, getting stronger in short and sporadic bursts of gusts. Now I knew that it wasn't a fan or something out there trying to trick me (he's done that once, too, though I'd figured it out quickly and managed to stay inside for that day).

That's another thing about being blind – you're never really sure of anything that's been told to you, since you can't see it for yourself. Believing what somewhat says right off the bat like that would take pure faith, and quite unfortunately for me, I don't have any of that.

I automatically leaned in the direction of the wind, almost like a knee-jerk reaction. I breathed in the fresh air to doubly make sure it was authentic, and I proceeded to say with a heavy exhale, "Well, it's like you say all the time. Learn from our past mistakes, right?"

"Of all the times you actually take my advice," he chuckled again in that gravelly voice of his as he moved back to my bedside, "you use it against your old man."

"I'm special like that," I said as I scratched my head and my fingers ran through the porcupine quills that were my hair. "Okay, well; you got me. Where's my cane?"

No sooner had those words left my lips that my grandpa slapped a plastic object into my free hand. I felt with both of my hands, and realized that he'd already extended the cane.

I sighed in defeat and pinched the bridge of my nose as realization hit me like an invisible mallet. This old man, I swear.

"You planned all this, didn't you?" I asked in disbelief as I lowered my hand.

He let out a hearty guffaw at my words. "My, my; nothing escapes you, Vanitas!" He grabbed my arm and practically yanked me off my bed. "Well, there's not much you can do about it now, my boy! Go on, up you get! Let's get you ready!"

I cursed silently. Man, I couldn't believe I had to live like this.

* * *

By this point you're probably thinking that the whole "running into people" rant was just my random complaint of the day. It's not. It totally has relevance to what happened, I swear – in that I was standing completely still and someone ran into _me_.

…

Yeah, I know. Shocker.

Seriously, people can get even _more _blind when they can see. I'm just amazed at humanity's stupidity sometimes. I really am.

Well, anyway, here's how it went down.

I was just standing on a sidewalk (that's what it felt like, anyway – I could feel the rough concrete through the soles of my sneakers) and minding my own business – just leaning back and letting the light wind ruffle my hair and tickle my exposed skin. I had my long cane out a little ways in front of me so no would obstruct my path if I decided to walk again. I was leaning against a building – probably its window, because I could tell that through my hoodie my back was touching something smooth, cold, and hard – and listening to the random chattering of the passersby.

"You know, I saw my ex at the mall the other day!"

"Oh my God! What did you say?"

"Did he even look at you?"

"I didn't say anything; it was super awkward! He looked so mad…"

A group of girls talking about a boy.

"…I couldn't believe what that boy was wearing. Nose piercings and plugs! You make sure you never dress like that, you hear me?"

"You don't need to tell me that! I don't want to look like some juvenile delinquent, Mom! Geez, who do you take me for, anyway…"

A mother telling her kid to not dress like a weirdo.

I stifled an irritated sigh. It seemed like cruel irony to me that all people ever talk about is what they _see_. It was unavoidable, obviously – sight is probably the most taken for granted of the five senses – but I felt frustrated anyway. It's tough to describe how _empty_ it feels when you can't attach an image to spoken words, especially since that our brains bring up the image before the word associated with it. It's ridiculous.

My eyes started to sting after a bit, so I blinked a couple times to rewet them. I wiped away the tears that followed with my sleeve. That's another thing with living in the dark – sometimes you forget to blink. Doesn't happen too often, but it happens often enough to annoy me.

My arm had barely left my face when something big slammed into me from somewhere to my left. It had happened so fast that I didn't even have the chance to cry out in shock when my head cracked against the sidewalk. I barely had time to brace myself; I'd toppled over onto the sun-warmed concrete and been pinned there by something…no, some_one_, though by the time I realized it the person had quickly scrambled off of me and started spouting apologies.

"Oh my God; I'm so sorry!" I could tell right away from the voice that it was a guy, maybe around my age. He sounded winded and frantic, like he'd been running from something that was chasing him and didn't have any time to lose. "I wasn't watching where I was going – that was all me; it was completely my fault, I – a-are you okay?"

I could barely process what he was saying until that last bit. "W-wait just a second," I said in a rattled tone, sitting up and facing in the direction of his voice. "Did you just say –?"

"I'm sorry," the guy repeated fervently. "I didn't mean to, I swear – I was just in a hurry and –"

"No, no; that's not it." My cane was still in my hand by some miracle, so I had little trouble confirming his actual location – it bumped into what I assumed to be one of his thighs. I was taken a bit off-guard by the rebound – pretty well-toned for a teenage guy. "Y-you just said you were sorry."

"Oh, um…" He immediately sounded confused, and a bit contrite, too. "You didn't want me to?"

I wanted to laugh at the sound of his voice, but I managed to keep myself in check. "You kidding? You're the first one to finally spit those words out after running into me."

A pause. "You serious?"

"As a heart attack," I sighed with a roll of the eyes.

"That…that really sucks," he replied, a hint of disbelief in his tone. "I mean, you're – um, aren't you…"

I waved a hand dismissively. "It's fine. Say it." _Go on. I dare you._

"Well, uh…you're…blind, right?"

Bingo, we have a winner! "Yep. So, what tipped you off? Was it the stick?"

"Er, yeah. That and…your stares are pretty vacant. You're not looking me in the eye while talking."

I nodded slowly at that. He was a sharp one. I was actually kind of glad he ran into me; you don't meet people like this every day. Especially under my circumstances.

I forgot that I was still sitting on the sidewalk until he took my hand and pulled me to my feet. I almost stumbled at the ease in which he'd done it – holy _crap_ was this guy stronger than he sounded. It was completely unexpected – it's like going to a rock concert and suddenly hearing folk songs.

"Uh, thanks." I cleared my throat as I expressed my gratitude. "So…who are you, anyway?"

Another pause. "Oh, right. Completely forgot about that," he admitted rather sheepishly. "Sorry, my name's –"

He was cut off by a man's voice calling from a distance away, "Sir! Please stop right there!"

Whoever it was sounded like they were headed in our direction, and was doing it pretty fast – there were more than one set of footsteps, too, so multiple people were headed our way. I was confused for a minute. Who were they calling –

"Ah, geez; they don't know when to quit!" I heard him complain next to me, much to my shock. Wait a minute, someone had called him _sir_? Who _was_ this guy?

Before my thoughts could go any farther than that, I felt his strong hands grip both of my shoulders. "Sorry, but I gotta run!" he said hurriedly. "If those guys catch me, I'll never be able to get away. I'll see you some other time, okay? Tell them you didn't see anybody! 'Bye!"

"Wait just a –" Before I could finish the sentence, he had vanished as suddenly as he had appeared. I could feel the empty space where he used to be – that guy moved pretty fast, too.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed in annoyance. What a weird day this was turning out to be.

The sets of footsteps that had been heading our (well, technically his) way slowed to a stop somewhere behind me, and I instinctively turned around even though I couldn't see the people responsible for them.

"Excuse me, have you seen –" the man that had called out earlier began, but I cut him off, highly annoyed.

"No, I haven't seen anything," I said shortly. "I'm _blind_, you moron. Do you not see this stick?" I held my long cane up in front of me (vertically so I wouldn't accidentally skewer anyone) for good measure. "You know what this is, right? Now go bother someone who can actually help you."

There was a minute or two of silence before the same man spoke again, this time somewhat stiffly, "Er, well; sorry for taking up your time." He then directed his voice to somewhere to my left, "Come on; we need to keep going. We can't lose him or else the Director is going to throw a fit."

The footsteps moved rapidly right past me at those words, and pretty soon I was left alone again – well, as alone as you can get on a busy sidewalk – but I didn't really take that into account as I processed what had just happened.

Someone had run into me trying to get away from those guys. That someone was the first person to ever apologize for running into me. The guys chasing him had called him _sir_. If the guy got caught, he'd "never be able to get away", in his own words. It sounded like the guy was the son of a bigshot millionaire or something. Who was he? Who were they? Why was he running? What the hell was going on?

"Vanitas! There you are!" I heard a familiar voice call out from in front of me, and a jolt went through me when I realized that I'd been left alone during that entire fiasco.

"Gramps? Where the hell were you this whole time?" I demanded as his footsteps drew nearer, feeling downright irritated.

"That is no way to speak to your elders," he chided me sternly as he stopped in front of me. "I simply lost track of you; you wandered off on your own without me noticing."

"Yeah, losing track of a blind person is bound to win you the Guardian of the Year award," I said, my voice thick with sarcasm. "Bonus points since that blind person is your freakin' grandkid."

At that, I suddenly felt a heavy slap on my back that made me stumble a little. Accompanying that smack were the stern words, "I won't have any more of this sourpuss attitude, young man. It will get you nowhere!"

"So what?" I retorted as I rubbed the stinging spot on my upper back where he'd slapped me. We started walking again – presumably back home. "You can't expect me to change my tune just because you say so; you know that? And you were the one who left me alone in the first place – if it weren't for you my face wouldn't have met the sidewalk."

"Ah, so you fell again, did you?" I almost popped a vein at his maddeningly casual demeanor. "What did you trip over this time?"

"I didn't trip," I snapped, my temper rising. "Somebody ran into me."

"Do tell! How quickly did this one squeeze an apology out of you?"

I swear; there are so many moments where I want to bean this old man so badly for being so nonchalant about certain things – kind of like now. I didn't care if he was my only family; he should at least have some sort of respect for me given how I was!

But with my grandpa, that sort of thing gets you absolutely nowhere. You just have to sit there (or stand there; whatever's most comfortable for you) and take what he dishes out without so much as a complaint, because he simply does not give a shit about your pointless whining. He would just tell you to suck it up and be an adult.

"It didn't happen this time," I sighed irritably as my cane hit a crack in the sidewalk and made me stumble for a split second. "The guy apologized first."

"Hrrm, is that so?" He sounded just as surprised as I'd felt. "That's certainly something new. Did this person give you his name?"

I shook my head. "No," I said in a low voice as my thoughts went back to the events of several minutes ago. "He had to run from some guys chasing him before I could catch it. He sounded close to my age, though."

"Did he, now?" he murmured as we rounded a corner. "What was this young man like?"

I was surprised at that question. "Um, why do you want to know that?"

"Just to confirm a few things, that's all." We walked for a couple minutes in silence before he prompted, "Well?"

He actually had an edge to his voice this time, as if the consequences wouldn't be pleasant if I refused to answer. That thought made me feel extremely uncomfortable. Jesus Christ, what the hell was going _on_ today?

Eventually I gave into the curiosity (plus I really didn't want to find out what would happen if I didn't answer him), so I explained everything – how young he'd sounded, the strange ways he'd spoken and acted, and how athletic he seemed to be when my cane had bumped into his calves and how easily he had hoisted me to my feet.

My grandpa was silent the whole time I was talking – and that in of itself was pretty odd. He usually never shuts up for longer than five minutes at a time.

I don't know how long I'd been talking, but eventually my feet treaded upon something slightly spongier than concrete – we were walking across a lawn; I could both feel and hear the grass blades rustle beneath the soles of my shoes. It took me a second to realize that we must've been cutting through this lawn to get someplace more quickly, because moments later my shoes hit the sidewalk again, and it took me another to realize that it was the way to our house thanks to my cane hitting the first steps of our porch and producing a hollow, almost metallic _clunk_. No other house in this neighborhood did that, to my knowledge – my grandpa had structured it like this on purpose so that I could recognize it if by some wild chance I'd been outside alone and I wanted to get back inside. Wholly unnecessary since I only went out whenever my grandpa dragged me out, but it still served to confirm that I wasn't about to intrude into some stranger's place.

We sure got here quicker than usual. Guess that's what happens when you're in the middle of a really engaging conversation (or monologue in my case).

I tapped the area twice in front of me so I wouldn't be tripping on the porch steps as I made my way forward. My grandpa still hadn't said anything, which – with all due respect – was kind of irritating me by that point. So I decided that I wouldn't wait for a response anymore and dived in.

"Gramps, do you know that kid or what?" I asked. "You're seriously weirding me out."

To my surprise he actually laughed at my question, though I couldn't see anything that was funny about it. "What?"

"It certainly seems so," he answered me as I heard the jingling of the house keys, laughter still laced in his tone, "If that boy is who I think it is, then you two are definitely bound to meet again."

"How do you know that?" I demanded, feeling unpleasantly miffed as I heard the door's latch unlock with a _snap_. I had to hold back the urge to whack him upside the head with my cane, though I couldn't properly judge where his forehead was. "You didn't even see this guy! And he was running away from some people; if he's got half a brain he's not going to run to the same place twice!"

"Oh come now, Vanitas," he chided me as the door opened with a squeak of the hinges. "Must you always ruin any and every prospect of excitement?"

I groaned at that. Okay, I know I'm not exactly the most optimistic person in the world, but that didn't mean I liked going around and actively killing all the sources of joy in the entire universe. I was just being realistic here; that was all. Not running to the same place twice once you've been found there is the sensible thing to do, isn't it? Unless you think your persistent pursuers are retarded or something and assume that they'll think with confidence that you wouldn't be stupid enough to even _dream_ of trying to hide in the same place twice.

In which case you're either severely confident or severely stupid yourself.

Take a bombshell and drop it on your head so you can realize that things just don't go the way you expect it to in that sense. Go ahead and call me a hypocrite; I don't care because your argument is invalid. I'm only saying that me not running into him again was the more likely event than not, not that it'll definitely not happen.

…You know what; I'm probably just talking in circles now. Stupid old man, riling me up for no good reason…

"All right, in you go!" My grandpa seized my wrist (yet again with strength defying his age) and yanked me through the front door.

As I stumbled inside, I resolved to spend the next couple of days trying to get him to crack and spill everything he knew about this kid by using every method and trick in the book to do it.

…

What? He always says that you should go to any probable lengths to fulfill your curiosities. I'm just following his advice like any good grandson would.

…Okay, I'm pretty sure I'm not winning any integrity points here. I'm done now. Later.

* * *

_It's about freaking time I updated this thing. Sheesh, what multiple stories and distractions will do to you!_

_Anyway, here's the first "proper" chapter to this story, and I hope you liked it. Please leave a review if you feel that you have any necessary criticism for me._

_As always, thanks for reading!_


	4. Interest

_Wow, I…seem to have quite a few people looking forward to seeing updates to this story now. This has never happened to me before; it's a new experience for me. ^^; But I digress. Seriously, thanks, all of you. I'll work extra-hard on this story; I promise!_

_Please enjoy this read, even if it's a bit short. ^^;_

_Oh, and I apologize for any typos in advance!_

**Ch. 3: Interest**

Well, mission failed. Goddamn it.

That old coot was made of sterner stuff. I couldn't get anything useful out of him for the past week! It was like he was deliberately avoiding giving me any answers about the guy that I'd run into a couple days back. I could almost imagine him with a sly smile like the stingy bastard he was as he continued to rebuff me and my onslaught of fake-out attempts.

I huffed in exasperation, sprawled out on my bed with my cane (I'm glad it was collapsible) in hand. "Damn it," I mumbled out loud.

This was too insulting. It was like he was taunting me.

The only information I had was the stuff he'd pretty much handed out to me back then – he apparently knew that guy, and he was sure that we'd be running into each other a lot. I didn't know what that meant, but I sincerely hoped that it was true (not that I'd ever admit that to his face) because I _was_ going to find out who he was, even if it meant stepping out on my own accord and being the butt of my grandpa's jokes for the next couple weeks, because I had my pride to think of. I wasn't going to let that get insulted any longer.

Unfortunately for me though, I couldn't go outside, even if I wanted to. The weather was getting chillier, and I don't do so well in the cold – I get migraines in cold weather. It's bad enough that it's almost like instant brain-freeze hypothermia. Maybe it was the low temperature, maybe it was my low blood pressure, or maybe it was just all in my head because I sure as hell didn't know of anyone else who had to deal with this crap, but it still didn't change the fact that I felt like, well, crap out in cold weather, even when all bundled up. That sunny day last week must've been a pretty weak one, even though it had felt fine to me.

This must sound like utter bullcrap to you coming from a guy who likes the wind, but let me tell you something – wind isn't always chilly, and it doesn't only happen on chilly days, as I'm sure you know. Stagnant cold is _not_ my best friend.

After a couple more minutes suffocating as I was trying to breathe in air that felt like a much thicker and warmer fog, I could stand it no longer.

"Argh!" I kicked off the bed covers and swung myself off my bed. I couldn't take anymore – my physical health be damned; I needed some fresh air. The air in the house was warm and toasty – almost muggy – and it was muddling my thoughts. Plus I could barely breathe.

"Gramps!" I called into the house as I felt for my shoes at the edge of my bed. "Find me a jacket or something! I want to go outside!"

There was no reply, but I heard the distinct shuffling of his footsteps approaching my room. I heard the door creak open (ha, he couldn't sneak up on me this time!) and click closed.

"What's this all of a sudden?" he asked me in his gruff voice. "You want to go outside? It's cold out; I'd think you'd avoid such weather."

I sighed. He really wasn't making this easy. "I know that," I said wearily. "I just can't breathe in this house right now. I need some fresh air and I'm not gonna get any of that with the house heating up like a stove."

"Why not just open a window?"

"Because," I answered with a hint of impatience, "that's wasting precious electricity, old man. You don't exactly have a high income. And I'm not going on some odyssey; I'm just going out to the backyard. Just give me my freaking jacket."

I heard him harrumph as he moved to where my closet was and slid the door open smoothly. "My, my; Vanitas. That mouth of yours couldn't get dirtier if it tried."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Gramps," I said as I worked my feet into the right shoes. "It means I can't get any worse than I am right now." I held out my hand. "Jacket?"

Right then I felt something soft hit me in the face and knock me back onto my bed. I pulled it off of me and righted myself with an angry retort. "Geez, what was that for?!" I demanded as I struggled to find the right holes.

"Terribly sorry, my boy. I must've misjudged my strength." Tch; yeah, right. That was totally on purpose. "Do you need help getting into the jacket?"

I huffed in exasperation. "I'm fine," I snapped, finally managing to find the sleeve holes and the collar and slipping my arms through them. "I can dress myself. Sheesh, I can't even remember why I called you in the first place." I managed to zip up the jacket and pulled the hoodie over my head. I could feel my skin perspiring already, but that was good – I wanted to trap as much heat as possible before heading out into the cold. "Anyway, what time is it?"

"Let's see here…" I heard him mutter. There was a brief pause, then he answered, "It's half past eleven."

"Got it." I assumed that it was eleven-thirty in the morning, because he didn't object to me stepping out (and he definitely would have if it had been in the middle of the night). "Call me when it's time for lunch, then."

My grandpa only chuckled as he shuffled his way out of my room at my remark, probably laughing at the fact that I'd called him to get a jacket out of my closet when I was perfectly capable of doing that myself. I knew the feel of each jacket so I knew what I'd be wearing, so calling him for help had been completely stupid on my part, not to mention a waste of time. I forget the degree of dependency I have sometimes, because of this stupid blindness.

Anyway, I digress.

I stood up and, cane in hand, made my way to the back door of our house. I was glad for the fact that the house wasn't too big, because I was pretty desperate to get out of here, even if it meant suffering hours-long migraines afterward. Man, what indoor heating could do to a person. Especially for someone like me who probably looked sickly and thin because I spent so much of my time inside. Seriously.

After a minute or so my cane hit something hard, and I heard the recognizable sound of glass rattling in metal. I was at the back door, finally! It had felt like ages for me.

I raised my hand and felt for the metal latch, which clicked open with little difficulty, and I slid the door to the side. I quickly felt the cold air wash over me and overtake the muggy heat of the house like it was nothing. I stepped out, closed the door behind me, and breathed in the cold, brisk air deeply before exhaling. The first breath of air once you step outside is always the best. Seriously, try it sometime with your eyes closed. You'll notice the difference, even if subtly. It works best if you've been indoors for an extended amount of time.

I tried to avoid thinking about the cold as I slowly made my way toward the middle of the fenced-in backyard, and it seemed to work to a degree – the throbbing in my temples was at a minimum. For now, at least.

And since I had told my grandpa to call me when it was time for lunch, that meant I couldn't use my iPod. Tough luck, but what the heck could I do about it.

I eventually ran into a huge tree (not literally) and once locating a particularly large root, I sat down on it and leaned against the smooth bark. I came out here sometimes, whenever I actually felt like exposing myself to the outside world (and away from my annoying grandpa) and wanted to avoid thinking about my crappy life. Cheesy as this might sound, it was for me what some would call a "special spot".

I closed my eyes to keep it from stinging in the wind, which was surprisingly sharp – it cut almost right through my jacket. The pounding in my head intensified a little once I registered that, since the wind was blowing against the sweaty skin underneath the jacket, so I tried to keep my mind on something else.

The day was a relatively quiet one. Not too many cars, few birds were chirping, and mostly devoid of voices since most people were probably inside to escape the biting cold –

Damn it! There it was again. I was starting to feel a little nauseous now, which was not what I wanted. It was more vertigo-like than outright dizziness, but still unpleasant as all heck. I was trying to relax, and the cold was doing all it could to piss me off. I'd tried compromising with the weather, but it hadn't worked.

Okay, I get the point, cold. You don't like me. Just cut me a little slack for an hour or so, and I swear I'll be out of your hair; I promise.

…

You know you're starting to lose it when you start talking to the weather like it can actually hear you. And if it actually could, it was probably flipping a metaphysical bird at me right about now.

My reverie was interrupted by something heavy crashing into the bushes somewhere to my left. I swear I leapt about a foot in the air at that sound. It came completely out of nowhere.

"Who's there?" I demanded, unable to keep the tension out of my voice. I was partially hoping to hear a response – if it was a wild animal, I'd have no way to defend myself, and the only thing I'd be able to do was stay still and hope it didn't go for my neck. But at the same time I didn't want to, because it could mean that – if it was a person – he or she was trying to break into our house. Not much I could do to stop that, either. And my old man wasn't exactly a bruiser. I didn't exactly want to think about the consequences.

So you can imagine my surprise when I heard a familiar voice say, "Sorry! I didn't mean to trespass…"

The voice trailed off, like he was just realizing who he was talking to. Then the words, "Hey…you're that guy from last week!"

After hearing that familiar voice, my first reaction was to relax. Okay, not a burglar, not a wild animal. Just that weird kid that I'd run into that one time. I didn't need to be afraid of this guy; he wasn't a danger to me. At least, I hoped that he wasn't.

Second reaction was to become annoyed – apparently my grandpa had been right; I was probably going to run into this guy a lot. Not that I'd admit that to his face, though.

My third and final reaction was to get completely pissed off. "What the heck are you doing, falling into my backyard like that?" I snapped, whipping my head around in the general direction of his voice. "Are you mental or something?"

"Sorry – I swear I didn't know that this was your backyard; I'm not trying to break in or anything, honest!" he said quickly.

That didn't placate me. "What, then; do you just enjoy crashing into random strangers' bushes as a hobby?"

"No, it's not – ugh, but never mind that now; can you help me find a place to hide until they go away?" he asked desperately. "I promise to explain everything afterward –"

Damn, he sounded jumpier than a fugitive out of death row or something. I didn't know what the deal was (and I was certainly hoping that it wasn't what I'd just imagined), but I couldn't exactly say no to a plea like this. Hey, I may be a jerk, but I'm not _that_ big of a jerk. I have standards, you know.

"Do you see a toolshed?" I asked him.

"Wh – oh, yeah," he said.

"Hide there. Nobody thinks to look in a toolshed for a missing person." Probably not true, but what the hell. He needed a hiding place and some reassurance, and I was gonna give it to him – even by lying to him. Besides, if I didn't do a good job of hiding this guy, where else was I going to get my answers?

Sounds of metal scraping against metal came from somewhere to my right after a moment of feet shuffling the grass, and everything was quiet.

For about ten seconds.

This time I heard the hinge of a metal door screeching in protest as it was opened, and footsteps approached in my direction. I was assuming that it was the same people who were chasing this guy last time, because having different sets of people chasing you every week is kind of…unorthodox.

The footsteps stopped about a hundred yards from where I was sitting.

"Oh, it's this kid again," I heard that familiar man's voice say in annoyance.

Yep, the same guys! Unless this guy had some other silent partner dragged along for chasing some minor up and down the streets. That tone was practically saturated with _This guy won't be of any help to us _implications.

Which normally would have irritated me, but at this point in time I didn't really care. Hey, getting them out of here faster meant that I'd be getting my answers faster. I wasn't going to let this golden opportunity get away from me so easily.

Oh, did I ever mention that I was a good liar? No? Sorry, should've mentioned that sooner. Comes with the occupation. Heck, you can lie without even meaning to. It is _the_ best way to get rid of people if you're anything like me.

"Hey, least it seems like you're learning from your mistakes, mister," I said with false pride in my voice, which immediately changed into irritation. "So take a hike, since you're trespassing on private property. And maybe you haven't noticed, but that's not a nice thing to do. As in, _illegal_. I could totally get my grandpa to call the cops on you."

Absolute silence. No shuffling of feet, no whispering voices. Just the sound of the wind blowing through the trees and bushes.

I then decided to cut to the chase. "Just get out of here is what I'm saying!" I snapped, shooing them away like they were pesky flies to emphasize my point. "Geez. You stupid or what?"

As if the two intruders were desperately trying to prove me wrong, I immediately heard their heavy footfalls as they retreated back through the backyard gate. I could've sworn I heard one of them mutter, "Punk." under his breath. At this point, I wanted to chase them down and beat them to a pulp with my stick, but I didn't because I was obviously handicapped, plus it was cold.

I sat there for a couple minutes to make sure that they weren't coming back, and when no sounds were forthcoming, I called out to the kid, "Hey, the coast is clear. You can come out now."

A metal screeching against metal, a loud squeak, a crash, and a muttered curse later, I heard a new set of footsteps come toward me and stop a couple feet to my left.

"Thanks," I heard him thank me from that spot. "I don't know what I would've done if they'd caught me."

"Run away again?" I guessed.

The guy scoffed. "Right. If they'd caught me just then, I'd be on permanent lockdown. Running away in that situation would be impossible. Lucky you happened to live here; I never would've gotten away if I'd crashed into some other person's backyard."

"Speaking of which," I cut in before he could say more. "Didn't you have an answer for my question before we were so rudely interrupted last week?"

"What –" he started to say, but then he caught himself. "Ohh, that. Right, I forgot."

_You seem to do that a lot_, I thought to myself. How did this guy manage to keep his head on his shoulders while acting like such a ditz, no less manage to elude those two weirdoes following him for a week straight?

"Anyway," he went on, snapping me out of my thoughts. "I don't mean to sound like a jerk or anything, but I'd like to have your name first. I'm not allowed to give my name to strangers…so to speak."

He sounded a bit incredulous at the end, like he couldn't believe that he was actually following this advice. I could see where that was coming from; that was a pretty stupid rule to apply to this case – we weren't strangers; not technically. We'd met before; we just weren't on a name-calling basis.

"Vanitas," I answered without missing a beat as I pushed myself to my feet. "Your turn."

The guy laughed. "Heh, you're pretty impatient, aren't you?" he noted with amusement.

_Oh, shut up,_ I thought acerbically. _I don't need hear that from you. Just give me your damn name! Quit toying with me!_

"I've been told that before," I said aloud, trying to keep my voice level. "But are you gonna spit out your name sometime today or what?"

He chuckled again. Damn it, this guy was making me want to pop a vein; this was infuriating! The cold wasn't exactly helping, either. I was starting to feel nauseous again, but I did my best to ignore it as I waited (rather impatiently) for his answer.

"Sorry, sorry," he apologized, the laughter still plain in his tone. "You just got me thinking about someone…anyway."

He then suddenly took my free hand in his and shook it once. I was too surprised to shake him off, and by the time I got my bearings back, he'd already let go of my hand. I tried to get the blood flowing in my fingers again when he finally spoke up.

"The name's Ventus," he finally answered me. "Thanks for all your help, Vanitas."

* * *

_Oh man, this chapter could've been so much better than this…most of this was filler, up until the second half, anyway…wonder why this chapter even exists. *sigh* Maybe that's why this chapter is so short. Eh, whatever; least you got something, right? This is just one thing out of the way for now! Two more things left on my immediate to-do list! :D_

_Anyway, I hope this chapter was enjoyable for you guys. The reveal of the mystery character shouldn't be too surprising to you, heh…unless you went the "obvious" route (which is only possible if you've been reading me long enough or we happen to think alike). I've been pressed in working on my updates all at once, though I know I shouldn't be doing that…just be patient for the next update, is what I'm getting at, all right? I'm sorry. ._.;_

_See you next update, guys!_


	5. Newcomer

_Long time no see, __Sight__ readers. Sorry for making you wait for so long – I had craploads to do, ran into quite a few personal issues, and hit a block with this, but my inspiration has returned. I hope this entry is enjoyable._

_**NOTE**__: I have some important things to say about this chapter and this story as a whole, so please take the time to read the author's note at the end._

_Thank you, as always, and reviews are always appreciated._

**Ch. 4: Newcomer**

It took me a minute to react to the sudden handshake.

I quickly tore my hand away and tried to reinstate circulation in them. Christ, his grip was strong! Did he even notice how he was crushing my hand doing that?

"Sorry, did I do something wrong?" I heard him ask in a worried voice.

I tried to keep my tongue in check, because if I didn't watch myself I would probably say a whole bunch of things that I'd regret later. You probably noticed already, but I have a dirty mouth. If I get supremely upset I could launch into a whole tirade using all the words in the entire Derogatory Words and Phrases dictionary. (And before you ask – no, I never read it.) I tried to avoid doing that now because 1) I would probably get grounded for life if I did that in front of my grandpa, and 2) I didn't want to scare this guy away at the moment. This opportunity was golden; I couldn't let it slip away so quickly!

"No, no, no; it's okay; you just" – I opened and closed my hand several times – "have a pretty strong grip is all. Took me off-guard."

"Oh…sorry," he apologized again. "I didn't realize…"

"It's all good." I could feel my fingers again. My pinkie still throbbed a little. "Just…a little warning next time, okay? Yeesh…I'm surprised I can still feel my hand."

"Right, sorry."

"Quit apologizing already," I sighed impatiently. "I get it; you're sorry. Let's move on, alright?"

"Um, yeah," he stuttered as he shifted grass beneath his feet. "But, uh, move on to what?"

Ah, forgot to clarify that. Whoops.

"Sorry, should've been clearer," I said, tapping my cane onto the damp earth. "So, you said your name was Ventus?"

"Yep. Most people call me Ven, though."

"Ven, huh…mind if I call you that?"

"Sure, feel free," he said easily. "Nobody uses my full name anyway."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, Ven," I said. "Do you mind me asking…you know…why you were running in the first place?"

Things were silent for a minute, and I was starting to think that maybe he was trying to sneak away without me noticing. I wasn't gonna have that – not after he knocked me to the ground one week and used me as schmuck bait the next. I was going to get my dues whether he liked it or not.

"Hello?" I asked. "Still with me?"

"Er, uh, yeah," I heard him stammer. Judging by where his voice was coming from, he hadn't moved. "I just, uh – an unexpected question, you know –"

"Touchy topic?" I guessed. "Look, if it is, just say so."

"No, it isn't," he said quickly. "I just need to be careful about who I tell…it has to be somebody I can trust, and –"

"You don't trust me," I finished. "Because I'm some random stranger to you, right?"

No answer. Yep, thought so. Not that I was upset, mind you. Just a little, you know…disappointed. But then again, I should've known that just asking him personal questions like that wouldn't get me a whole lot of answers. Whatever the case may be, there's an important reason you're running away from people like that.

"Sorry," Ven said again. He sounded pretty somber this time. "I didn't think that you'd ask me something like that."

"I should've given you a warning myself," I said, putting my free hand in my pocket. "Well, if you can't answer that question, then I won't push you. How many people have you told your little secret, anyway?"

It was quiet again, and I was thinking that he was giving me that same silent treatment until he said suddenly replied, "No one."

That got a legitimate shock out of me. "No one?" I echoed in surprise. "Not friends, family members, acquaintances? You really didn't tell anybody?"

I could almost imagine him shaking his head here. "I don't have any friends. Never have. And there's no one to tell who already knows in my circle."

Okay, I was confused now. This guy had no friends…and his family already knew why this was going on? Was that what he was trying to tell me? But if that was true, why was his family not doing anything to stop this?

Man, from the few encounters I've had with this guy, it was hard to picture him as a loner. He just didn't seem the type…well, other than the whole "running away from scary people" bit, anyway. But with someone like me, it's very easy to see why I'm a loner. Him, though…I couldn't fathom the reason behind this.

"So…you don't have any friends?" I ventured.

He chuckled again, but it sounded bitter this time. "How could I? I'm probably the most sheltered kid on this whole planet. I have the most paranoid and overbearing parents in the history of man. How was I supposed make any friends while being locked away like that?"

I was stunned beyond comprehensible words. This guy was the total opposite of me. He _wanted_ to get out and meet people, but his parents forced him to stay inside, whereas I was forced to go outside when I just wanted to be alone at home. All of a sudden I understood why my old man said that I would be running into this guy a lot. He definitely knew what he was talking about.

…Which only made things even more irritating. It just felt like he lived to prove me wrong at every turn.

Not that I had much time to moan about that right now; there was a seriously deprived kid over here. Pretty soon I found myself saying the words I never thought would come out of my mouth.

"Want to come inside?" I asked him.

There was a stunned silence in the air, which I really couldn't blame him for – I was pretty surprised myself. Never in my entire life did I ever foresee a situation where I'd say something like this.

It took him a minute, but soon I heard him say, "Really?" in an incredulous voice, like he'd never been offered that before (which, to be fair, was probably the case). "Is that really okay?"

"Yeah. Plus, I really can't focus while I'm out in the cold because…" Case in point, another wave of nausea hit me right then – pretty hard this time, since I'd been so focused on talking to this guy that I hadn't noticed it building up. I actually stumbled a little, but I managed to keep my balance. "Ugh, yeah…because of that."

"You okay?" he asked me in his concerned tone again. His hand was on my shoulder now, but he wasn't squeezing, at the very least.

"I'm fine," I said shortly, brushing his hand off. "It's just something I have to deal with. You coming in or not?"

"What about your parents, though?"

Okay, this conversation was going into some seriously dangerous territory here. I mean, not that I expected him to know or anything, but still. It just was, and I cursed my luck for forcing me into a situation where I'd have to talk about my parents to this nobody.

But it was cold, I was still dizzy, and I wanted to be somewhere where it was warmer so I'd stop feeling so sick, so forgive me for my lack of prudence here, okay? Just once. Blame the cold, okay? It was pretty bad for it being the onset of autumn.

"Don't have any," I said simply, taking several steps forward until my feet hit concrete. "I live with someone else."

"Oh…who?"

He was really pushing it. "Look, I'll explain some other time, but seriously, just come inside," I ordered him more harshly than I'd meant to. "I feel like utter crap out in the cold, and I want to talk with you without feeling nauseated. So just _come on_."

The edge in my voice must've tipped him off, because he quickly agreed. I probably should've felt bad, but I was so anxious to get inside that I didn't really give that much thought.

Still, the guy had it in him to throw me one more question before we could escape the frigid wind.

"Sorry, but can I ask you one last thing?" he requested swiftly.

I suppressed a withering retort as I prompted him with a flat, "What?" as I massaged my temples. Dude, did you _not_ see my dizzy spell earlier? I need to get inside before the cold makes me pass out, damn it! "Make it quick."

"Not to be rude or anything," he went on, a clear edge in his voice, "but why do you want to talk to me this badly, anyway?"

My hand froze on the door handle briefly before answering.

"Because," I said without mincing words, sliding the door open and stepping inside, "the person I'm living with told me I'd be running into you a lot. Best to get properly acquainted if that'll be the case, right?"

* * *

I hate irony.

The world is just full of surprises waiting to ambush me, isn't it? I run into a strange guy twice in two weeks. I let said strange guy into my house. And it turns out that he is familiar with my grandpa.

…

What? Waiting for me to flip it on you? I'm telling the truth here, people. Hey, just because I said that I was a good liar doesn't mean I do it all the time. Sheesh. C'mon, you guys can see, right? You have faith that I don't have, so put some it to some use!

In the meantime, I'll just be over here being rightly pissed off at my grandpa for keeping this secret from me. I mean, seriously! He was hanging _this_ over my head? He knew this weirdo kid _personally_, didn't tell me on purpose, and when they recognize each other right in front of me he just explains the circumstances like it's nothing? What the hell! That is first-class bullshit; he'd been playing me this whole time! Goddamn it!

Ugh…okay, I need to calm down about this; I just…just why, Gramps? Why? Why would you do this to me?!

In order for you to understand my utter incredulity and sheer rage at this, you're going to need a rundown. So I'll give you one.

When I stepped into the house, it was still warm, but not stifling like last time, so I just assumed that my grandpa had either turned down the heater or turned it off completely. The house was surprisingly well-insulated; the warmth in the air was stagnant, and it was enough so that my nausea cleared away in a matter of minutes.

"Decent place you've got here," I heard Ven say as I heard the sliding door close behind me.

I stretched and breathed in the musky scent of the house. "You think so? Well, I guess Gramps did something right with the interior design."

"Yeah, he did," he said as he moved somewhere to my left. He almost sounded wistful. "It's got a nice feel to it…it's so homey."

"Yeah, it's nice when my old man doesn't troll me for fun in his spare time," I said off-handedly as I removed my jacket and hung it on the nearest chair I could find.

"He what?"

I groaned. "Never mind. He's just annoying. Leave it at that."

"Well, okay." He still sounded confused. Man, when he'd said that he was sheltered, he hadn't been mincing a freaking word. Next he'd be asking me why I call people who avidly indulge in what they like _fans_.

"You'll see what I mean later," I said, and no sooner than that last word had left my mouth came the familiar gruff voice calling from somewhere in the house, "Is that you, Vanitas? Are you back inside already?"

People and their stupid questions, I swear. Of course I was in the house; he couldn't hear me otherwise. And I lived alone with him, so what was the point in saying that? Unless he heard Ven's voice, too – then it'd make some sense.

"Yeah, I am," I called back into the house. "And I've got a guest with me, too."

"Oh, so that was the other voice, eh? Alright, I'll be out in a moment!"

A couple seconds of silence; then Ven comes with, "Was that your grandpa?"

Do these people even have functioning brains by this point? "Yeah, that was him. He'll be out in a minute."

"Huh…he sounds like someone I used to know," he said in a musing tone.

"He does?" I scoffed. "Do I feel sorry for you. Hope he wasn't half as annoying as he was."

"No, he was actually pretty funny."

"You don't say."

"Yeah."

There was an awkward silence then. To be honest, this was my first time holding an extended conversation with anyone, even my own grandpa, so don't blame me for this sudden impasse.

"Uh…want to sit down somewhere?" I asked him to get rid of the uncomfortable air. "Unless you are already, I mean…"

"Oh, I'm not – I mean, I wasn't –" He caught himself at the last minute and gave me a stuttered, "Um, I mean…yeah, sure. I'd like that."

Before I could take him anywhere, though, I heard shuffling footsteps somewhere slightly to my right, and I knew that my grandpa was now in on the scene. For once, I was grateful for his intrusion – I wasn't sure how much longer I'd have been able to hold out without feeling extremely stupid.

But that fleeting gratitude faded away as soon as I heard the first words out of his mouth.

"Good to see you again, Ventus!" my grandpa greeted jovially. "Slippery as always, I see!"

Yeah, that was where I flipped my lid – when my suspicions had been confirmed; he _did_ know Ventus from somewhere. Which in itself severely ticked me off, but what really threw me was that he _didn't give a damn about acting like this where I could hear him_. After going through all that to avoid telling me anything about this guy, he just up and blurts that right in front of me once he actually sees him with me? Was that even normal behavior? For _anyone?_

It took a minute for that to sink in in real-time.

"You…" I could barely talk in a coherent sentence. "Y-you can't be serious, Gramps. You have _got_ to be kidding me!"

"Oh, settle down, Vanitas," he chided me like this was just some ordinary lecture. "Didn't I tell you already that I knew him?"

"I don't care about that!" I snapped. "What I care about is that you've been keeping this from me for all this time, only to spill it like it's nothing! Seriously, what is _wrong_ with you?!"

"There's no need for you to take it like this," he admonished me sternly. "I just thought it'd be an experience for you to figure this out on your own."

"Which I did!" I smacked myself in the nose with the handle of my cane as I did a face-palm, forgetting that I had it in my hand at that moment. "But couldn't you have, I don't know, let me down _gently_ with this? Was that really too much to ask?"

My grandpa actually had the gall to chuckle at my rant. "Doesn't that defeat the very purpose of this exercise?"

I had no response to that. How do I always manage to corner myself in my conversations with him? That just made this situation even more infuriating!

I was only snapped out of it by Ven's reaction.

"No way…" he breathed. "Is that really you, Grandpa Xehanort?"

Whoa, backtrack. _Grandpa Xehanort?_

"W-wait a minute…" I muttered slowly. "What did you just call him?"

"I said that he's –"

"Oh, don't mind him." I felt a hand ruffle my already-messy hair (that's just what I assumed, anyway; combing my hair is next to impossible) as the old man cut in. "We're just well-acquainted. I've known his family for a long while years ago. That's where he got that nickname for me."

Ven tried to cut in, "But I thought –"

"No need to worry! I'm sure you two will get along quite nicely!" My grandpa gave me a hearty slap on the back, and I could only assume that he did the same thing to Ven because I heard another slap and a surprised, "Ow!" right next to me. "Why don't you boys get to know each other, eh? Take him to the living room so you can have a comfortable chat. I'll be fixing up a meal in the meantime."

"But –" Ven began to say, but he was interrupted again.

"No need to worry, my boy. Those hoodlums won't be expecting you to be here, thanks to Vanitas. He portrayed the image of a helpless blind boy quite well."

His footsteps receded into where I assumed was the kitchen, leaving the two of us alone in whatever room we were currently in (probably the dining room; I kind of lost track in the earlier tumult of emotion). If I could only see Ven's expression right about now; maybe then I would feel less embarrassed and pissed off. _Helpless blind boy?_

"So," I prompted in a controlled tone after about a minute of silence aside from the plates clinking in the distant kitchen, "was that the person you were talking about?"

I didn't get a response for a couple seconds. Then he said, "Uh, yeah."

I shook my head and sighed. "You were nodding, weren't you?"

"Sorry," he apologized. He sounded self-conscious – with good reason, too. He was the one who noticed I was blind before I had to tell him, after all.

"Never mind," I muttered. "Let's just go to the living room before he comes out and finds us here."

"Yeah, okay."

I picked my way around the dining table and worked my way into another room until I could feel my cane bouncing off of a couch. I traced the length of it, and I found that I was a two-seater. After getting myself properly in place, I collapsed on it, feeling the rough nylon rub against my skin. Geez, for a day that had started off mediocre, I found myself tired within less than an hour.

I heard the sound of Ven falling into another couch to my left – probably the armchair – as I adjusted myself into a more comfortable position to recline.

I didn't beat around the bush this time around, and cut straight to the chase. "So, do you mind telling me what the story behind all that was?" I asked without missing a beat. "How do you know my grandpa?"

"Well…" I heard him shuffle in his seat a bit. "It's like he said. We've known each other for a long time now…or at least, he and my father did. It's so crazy, though…he's your grandfather, of all people. Don't you realize how amazing that is?"

Okay, good for you, buddy. That doesn't tell me anything. "Alright, so what's so amazing about it? How do he and your dad know each other?"

"I'm not too sure of the details, actually," he confessed. "He's just been around for as long as I can remember, but then he suddenly stopped showing up. It's been years since I last saw him."

Huh, so my old man had been leading some sort of double life behind my back? This sort of thing actually happens in real life? Life was just round-housing me left and right today.

"You're serious? What was he, your babysitter?"

That got a laugh out of him. "He might as well have been. He was around so much it was like he was another member of the family." His voice dropped to a lower tone as he continued, "Well, the most family-like person I've ever had in my so-called family, anyway."

"Right…" Why did he have to keep going into that tangent? That just made this conversation even more awkward than it had to be. "Let's just get to the part why he being my grandpa is so amazing."

"It's just –" He stopped himself, then he went on carefully, "I mean…I guess I'm just…you know, jealous."

I wasn't sure I had heard that correctly. "_Jealous?_" I repeated in shock. "Really? Jealous of _who?_"

"Well…you." I heard him shifting position again. "Because you're his grandson and all…your grandfather was basically my replacement parent for half my life."

Yeah, I'll admit – that _was_ pretty crazy. What were the odds of this happening, really? I'd just effectively earned myself an unofficial foster brother in the span of two minutes.

And seriously – _replacement parent?_ What the heck were this kid's real parents doing for him to warrant such a term, anyway? Neglectful, much?

"Yeah…that old coot is definitely good at filling in that role," I said with a wistful chuckle. "No doubt about that."

"No kidding?" he asked curiously.

I nodded. "Ever since I lost my parents, he's been watching me, too. He may be annoying and smart-aleck as all hell sometimes, but he's still a really good guardian underneath it all." I leaned back on the backrest of the couch so that my face was tilted upward. I could feel an incredulous smile tugging at my lips. "Man…I can't believe I just said that. I'm gonna have to wash my mouth out later."

"Isn't that a bit much?" he asked me with a nervous laugh.

I waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, he can handle it. He's been doing it for nine years."

We both laughed a bit more, and then lapsed into a brief silence. Then Ven broke the silence with, "Sorry about your parents though." He sounded sympathetic – which annoyed me a little, but I could see where he was coming from. It was understandable hearing words of sympathy from this guy, judging from all that I'd inferred about his own parents – who were very much alive but pretty much ignoring him, so the effect was about the same, maybe even worse.

I didn't feel like going into my parents too much, but I guess I couldn't leave him hanging forever.

"Yeah, well…I wasn't all that close to them at that point," I said with a half-hearted shrug. "I didn't know them well enough to really miss them when they kicked the bucket."

"Oh…" was his only response. I honestly would've been surprised if his response had been something else, though I was a bit confused at the fact that he didn't ask how my parents had died. Maybe he was just considerate like that.

I nodded anyway. "Yeah. It was honestly not that much of a loss to me in that sense. But let's not talk about that."

"Right…okay."

"Mind if I ask you something now?"

"Um, it's cool," he consented, sounding somewhat surprised. "Why're you asking permission, though?"

I tapped my cane against the coffee table in front of me. "Oh, you know…because it's _that_ question."

I took a second for that to sink into his brain. "Oh, that question. The one you asked earlier."

"Yeah. That. Are we still strangers, or are we well-acquainted enough?"

His answer came much more quickly than I'd expected. "Yeah. I trust you. Since you're his grandson and all."

Excuse me for being at least a little shocked at those words. That was quick. Not even a brief period of musing? He just decided to up and trust me because his 'Grandpa Xehanort' was my real grandpa?

"You sure you're not making a mistake?" I asked him cautiously. "I mean, sure he's my grandpa and all, but…"

He chuckled quietly. "Sure I'm sure. You just told me something pretty important, right? That tells me I can trust you."

Damn, I didn't know _where_ this kid picked up his social skills, but I sure as hell wasn't gonna complain about it here.

"Well, whatever you say," I relented. "But before that, let me ask you one other thing."

"Man, you really are full of questions."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Anyway, does my old man know the answer to this question already? And if he doesn't, do you want me to keep my mouth shut about it?"

"Oh, he knows," he assured me. His tone of voice as he said that was…strange, to say the very least. "You're not really going to have anyone to spill this to – that's another reason why I'm telling you."

"Glad that you trust me so much," I said acerbically. "I'm touched."

"Well, it's not just a matter of trust, believe me," he said, his voice full if reproach. "I've got my reasons, you know."

I exhaled sharply. Okay, one thing was official – even after talking to him, this kid was _definitely _weird.

"Yeah, got it," I said wearily. "You're free to answer now."

We then sat there in silence for another couple seconds (this was starting to look like some kind of trend now), and then he finally spoke.

"The people chasing me…" He sighed in resignation before going on. "They're my bodyguards."

Whoa, wait a minute. Bodyguards? "H-hold on, back up a sec. What?"

"Bodyguards. You know, people that –"

"I know what a bodyguard is, Einstein. What I'm wondering here is why the heck I'm even hearing that word come out of your mouth."

"Um…because it's true?" he said in a confused tone. "I wouldn't say I had bodyguards if I didn't."

Oh, for the love of _God _was this guy difficult to talk to. "That's not what I mean. Why the hell do you have bodyguards at all; that's my question!"

"I'd think you would have figured that one out already," he pointed out, completely deadpan. "Did you already forget what I said about paranoid and overbearing parents?"

"I was sort of hoping that wasn't true," I admitted. "But _bodyguards?_ Really? God, 'paranoid' is understating it."

I didn't really have any idea what his response would be to my remark, but his next words actually gave me a pretty huge kick in the chest.

"Well," he went on in a bitter tone, "it's not really an understatement when your dad's a CEO."

* * *

_Okay, like I mentioned at the beginning, there are very important things I need to discuss with this chapter. But before we start, I sincerely hoped that you enjoyed reading this update. You've waited about a month for an update that is barely 5K, and I'm truly sorry for the delay. I hope that this still satisfies in some way. Like I said, I ran into quite a few problems while writing this, so I hope you guys have it in you to forgive me._

_Now, let me start with the confession that I was kind of insecure about this entry to the story. Some of you may be wondering why I revealed so much crucial information so soon. It might seem like I'm completely giving away the meat of the story with this chapter, and well, I don't blame you for thinking so. It definitely seems that way._

_But I'll be brutally honest right now that this story is above all focused on the characters, what they go through, and what lessons are learned – by both you, the readers, and the characters themselves – so this reveal will ultimately contribute to the story more overall and give me more to work with. So you as the third-party audience reading this, I hope that this will give you a deeper understanding of what the characters will be forced to deal with in this story, and empathize with their decisions and their character as a whole. It may not seem like it now, but things _will_ get ugly, and I want to get the most out of that now that I've written this. I just want you as readers to know and hopefully understand why I decided to spill important plot points this early on. Believe me, it wasn't an easy decision._

_As always, thank you for reading and reviewing. See you next update._


	6. Distance

_I'm sorry, Vanitas. I'm really sorry._

**Ch. 5: Distance**

Now correct me if I'm wrong (though I'm usually not), but I seem to recall noting that life had recently been spending time roundhousing me left and right.

Well, you know what? This revelation was the finisher to my gut.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I realized pretty soon that it was because I was choking – on what, I had no idea, but I couldn't get anything past my lips. God, talk about a whammer.

It took me about a minute, but I finally managed to choke out, "H-hold on. You're _rich?!_"

"Well…yeah," Ven replied, his voice suddenly very timid and small. It was as if he was waiting for some sort of punishment. "Are you mad?"

Buddy, if my heart suddenly stops beating in around the next ten seconds, the guilt that'll follow is all the punishment you deserve to suffer. That is _not_ something you can say so casually and expect someone like me to tank it.

Aloud I said, "I…I don't think that's the right word to describe my feelings right now."

"Er…" Sudden silence. "Surprised?" he guessed at last.

I nodded feverishly and held my hands up in surrender. "Yeah, let's just go with that."

"Sorry," he said again. "I didn't mean to freak you out."

Oh, of _course_ not. When do you ever actually _mean_ to kick me in the face with one of your secrets?

I rubbed my forehead as if to massage an imaginary headache away. "You," I said, "are hands down the most _unpredictable_ person I've ever met. And you know something; that's actually a testament because I have met some pretty weird people."

"Uh…" His tone was indicating that he wasn't sure how to react to that remark. To be fair, I had no idea how I was delivering that comment to him, either. Sorry, he's just _that_ weird.

"In either case, that explains a whole lot," I went on with a sigh as I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Though honestly, I've always wondered what meeting a rich kid would be like, because all I hear about them are the stereotypical types."

"Stereotypical types?"

"The usual stuff people assume about your group. Spoiled, snobby, throwing money around like they're confetti. You're not like that, are you?" I tacked on at the end.

"Of course not."

Well, that was quick. "Really? What're you guys really like, then?"

"Find out for yourself," was all he said in reply. He sounded a bit miffed, probably because I'd just shoved him into a category of people like it was no big thing.

Hey, don't judge me. I'm a logical person; everything needs to have a place in my mind that makes sense in the physical sense of the word. And since I can't exactly see for myself, that just brings in more problems in that department.

Call me a whiner all you want. I'm just trying to compensate for my lack of utilities, all right? Sheesh.

"Okay, fine. Sorry I even asked." I played with my white cane – even though I technically wasn't supposed to because it was important equipment – because I couldn't find any other way to distract myself. This guy was even more difficult to talk to than Gramps. You think that we're friends, Ven? Really?

We sat that way for a couple seconds, and it was all set up to be an awkward silence scenario when I suddenly heard my grandpa say, "Are you boys done talking already?"

I jumped at the sound of his voice in spite of myself. I repeat: He moves like a freaking _ninja_.

"Why do you keep doing that?" I demanded as I tried to calm my fluttering heart. "You know I hate –" I stopped myself, and amended acerbically, "Actually, never mind. That's probably the reason you keep doing it in the first place."

"Never hurts to double check, my boy," he said, a lilt in his voice. I could _swear_ that he got more annoying by the day. I didn't even bother to answer him.

"Anyway, why don't you ask him? He's the one who shut me out in the first place," I grumped with an exasperated huff.

"Oh, is that so?" He didn't sound all that surprised. Go figure. "What happened, son?"

Oh, great. First he completely screws with my mind, and now all of a sudden he calls Ven "son"? I couldn't work out that old man's thoughts any more than I could with Ven's. Am I the only odd one out here? Was that it? Or was I just overthinking things?

Goddamn it; this world doesn't make any sense to me anymore. I give up on understanding it now.

"Do you two exist solely to scramble my brain?" I demanded before Ven could give an answer. I wanted to pull at my hair, but I held myself because I didn't want to look like a psycho. "What the hell is going on?! Won't somebody please give me a straight answer for once?!"

More silence followed my complaint. And yet again, the old man had the gall to _laugh_. Incarnation of the devil, he probably was. I wanted to tell him to shut up and give me an answer, but that wouldn't merit any generosity points from him. So I used all my willpower to stay silent and crossed my arms, waiting for my answer.

Geez, the levels you have to stoop to just to _get_ somewhere in this world.

"Alright, I guess I've teased you boys long enough," my grandpa finally decided. About time, you geezer. And _boys? I _was the one you were teasing! Ven isn't smart enough to know that he was being toyed with, if you even were at all! I call bullshit to that. Total bullshit. "Shame, it was rather enjoyable while it lasted."

Okay, now he was _officially_ the incarnation of the devil. I swear to all the – actually, never mind. If I finished that sentence, I'd be locked up in juvie hall for all eternity. Or until I died, killed myself, killed somebody else, whatever.

…Crap, I'm getting off topic again. You know it's your job to warn me whenever I do that, right? Geez.

"Well, gee; that's great, Gramps," I griped. "We're all ears, so please explain super slowly so that our incredibly dense minds can understand your big words – no actually, don't bother with that and just stick with the small words. I don't think you'd want to repeat the same thing five times over."

Damn, I laid the sarcasm thick. I can almost taste it on my tongue.

…

Heh. That was awesome.

"My goodness," he sighed, bringing me back to the present. "And to think that this one's my grandson."

"You're talking about me, right?" I asked mockingly. I could feel the scowl on my face as I said that. Sweet Lord, just how far was I going to take this? I couldn't see the line well enough at the moment to draw it.

"Well, speak of the devil!" he proclaimed at my words suddenly, startling me into silence. "What a perfect place to start!"

Ven chimed in by this point. "Um, it is?" he asked in a confused tone.

"Yes!" He sounded like this video game character I heard about whose name I never managed to put my finger on. Some kind of bird man or something. Stop looking at me like that; I don't know!

"Well, do enlighten us then, Gramps," I said scathingly. "How does that pertain to my question? Do tell."

"Come now, Vanitas," my grandpa scolded me. "Why must you be so sour? You should be more like Ven over here – sweet and innocent!"

"What?" I could swear that I heard incredulity in Ven's tone. About time; for once that guy was giving out the proper reactions. "Sweet and innocent?"

"Quit changing the subject!" I snapped. "Just spill it!"

"All right, all right," the old mad relented. "No need to get all bent out of shape."

"Is that another pun?" Ven asked.

"That's enough," my grandpa said, sounding serious for the first time in a while. The atmosphere of the room had suddenly changed – it had become heavier. "I can tell you later. This is something that I'd kept secret from the both of you for a while now. I didn't know what revealing this information would entail for either of your families, but I suppose that since you're both big boys now, I can trust you both to take this in good stride."

"Try me," I challenged.

I waited, but there was no response from Ven's end. Surprise, surprise.

I could hear my grandpa clearing his throat, and the sound was so prevalent that I imagined him smirking. Honestly, I could go on and on about him and his annoyingness, but I won't. You've heard me complain about him enough, I bet.

That aside, there was something about the way he worded his statement that made me think: He'd kept this secret from both of us? As in, the two of us, and not anyone else? So we were the only ones not in the know about this secret yet?

"As I was saying," my grandpa went on before I could think on that further, "before I tell you this, you must promise to never let anyone else know about what I'm about to tell you. Heaven knows what'll happen if word got out."

"And…you really trust us to keep it?" Ven asked slowly. He sounded nervous. "Grandpa, I don't know if I can…"

"You can," my grandpa interrupted. "You will, because it will be your responsibility and obligation. I trust you both will adhere to my promise once you hear it."

"Well, then; just tell us the secret so we can actually keep it," I insisted impatiently. "It's not exactly like we have anyone to tell, you know."

"That's a very good point," he mused, much to my irritation. Man, I seriously had to stop digging these holes myself. "So I suppose I can tell you."

"Yes, please do," I grumbled. Weren't you going on about this in order to tell us anyway?

"Alright then," he said. I could imagine stroking his chin here – I've heard people do that when they're deep in thought. Never seen it, though. "I at least know where to start."

"Yeah?" Ven urged him on. I could tell he was just as curious as me, if not more.

"Of course! How's this for starters?" I felt a rough hand clap my left shoulder and squeeze lightly. "The two of you are closer than you think."

I felt my face slip into a confused frown. "What're you talking about?" I asked blankly.

"You mean you haven't guessed yet?" my grandpa said.

"No, because I assumed that you were going to tell me."

"But I do believe it is obvious any way you look at it."

My frown deepened into a scowl. "Oh, yeah. It must be."

"No offense was meant, my boy." I felt the hand leave my shoulder and a weight settling down to my right. I guess my grandpa had just sat down next to me. "In either case, please let me finish; you've been interrupting me quite a bit."

I felt a tic going in my cheek at his words. What the hell, old man; _you_ were the one deviating into different tangents! I was the one trying to get you back on track, damn it! Don't pin the blame on me!

"So sorry, Gramps," I apologized, the sarcasm thick in my tone. "I'll just shut up now so you can talk." I then zipped up my lips, pretended to throw away the tab, and dramatically waved my hand (not too far, or else I'd hit him on accident – though I kind of wonder now why I'd done that, because if anything he deserved a smack in the face after everything that had happened) so he could proceed.

"So, how should I put this," he mused. "You two are closer than you think."

"But you already said that," Ven pointed out. Well, no shit. "What do you mean by that, though?"

"Well, that's simple, Ventus." My grandpa rumpled my already-messy hair as he went on, "You two are related."

The whole world seemed to freeze for a couple seconds when he said that.

"Uh…what?" I asked blankly.

"My goodness, Vanitas; where has all your insight gone?" He chuckled low and long as he lifted his hand away from my head. "It doesn't get much clearer than that. The two of you are family!"

* * *

That tears it. I give up. I have suffered a horrible, horrible loss in this game called life. You win; you were always meant to utterly destroy me, so do whatever the hell you want with me because I don't care anymore. I'm done. I'm freaking done, because the words that just came out of your mouth just _does not compute!_

…

Well, that's what I _wanted_ to say, but when you're hit with news like that out of the blue, your train of thought tends to completely derail and explode into a smoking wreck of jumbled psyche. What came out of my mouth instead was this really intelligent remark of, "What?"

Yeah. That was all I could manage. No judging.

I suspected that Ven was having a similar reaction, because he was dead silent. I would put emphasis on 'dead', but that's a bit overdoing it.

"Exactly what I said," my grandpa went on to answer my unprecedented question. "You two are bound by blood! First cousins, to be clear. Your father, my flesh and blood, is Ven's father's elder sibling. The two never got along very well, I'm afraid. This is the result."

There was no way that this could be true. This was just some sort of revenge gift for pestering him this whole week, wasn't it? He was just pulling my leg, right?

"You…" I laughed nervously. "You can't be serious, Gramps. You seriously expect us to –"

"Isn't that what I told you before I answered your question?" he countered. "I expect you to be able to take this in stride."

My palms felt sweaty. How could he expect me to take something like this in stride? He was asking the impossible. I mean, you don't just tell your grandson that the strange kid that ran into you on the street was a long lost family member and expect him to receive it calmly. Especially if that grandson happens to be _me_.

"So…it's true then?" I asked, my voice trembling. "You're really serious?"

"Yes."

He said that word so calmly I knew I couldn't deny it this time. This really was the truth. But that wasn't what upset me the most.

"Something like this…" I shook my head while it was lowered. "Something like this…why would you keep it from us; from – from either of us?"

"I didn't want to," was his reply, and that made me start a bit. "It was never my intention to keep this secret from you boys, but it couldn't be helped. Your fathers – my sons – insisted that the two of you never met. Of course I was opposed to the idea at first, but I eventually caved in. Who was I to deny them their wish – the one thing that my boys ever agreed on? Who would I have been as a father to them?"

I balled my hands into fists. "That's no excuse."

I felt him gently clap my shoulder with his hand. "Of course. It is no excuse, and I will freely admit it. However, it is merely an answer to your question."

"Then tell me this," I demanded, pushing his hand away. "Whose brilliant idea was it to keep us separated, huh? Which of them decided to cut the family apart?"

There was no reply, and after such a long string of straight answers, I grew irritated all over again. Who the hell did he think he was; just deciding to stop talking to us out of nowhere like this?

Then suddenly, "It was him, wasn't it?"

I flinched involuntarily. I'd almost forgotten that Ven was still here in the house with us. And his voice was nothing like before – it was quiet, somber, and subtly saturated with anger.

"What are you talking about?" I asked no one in particular, my voice suddenly husky. "Who is 'him'?"

"My younger son," my grandpa said at last, his words heavy. "He is your uncle, Vanitas…and Ventus' father."

"_Don't even think about calling him that!_" Ven yelled angrily, cutting him off before he could speak further. His next words were heavy on the restraint. "He's not my dad. He's no _father_. He's just a corrupt businessman who's using his son as a means of leverage so he can keep up his stupid company!" His voice choked a bit. "He waves my existence in other tycoons' faces just to show that he has an heir to the family business. That's basically all he uses me for, to keep the company from being bought out from under us! I'm just his tool! He doesn't think of me as a son! He never did! And he _never will!_" I heard the table in front of us rattle, and I could assume that Ven had either kicked it or punched it. Whatever had happened, Ven was obviously upset.

I had to admit, this kind of behavior from him kind of surprised me. From both times I've met him, I'd never once heard him raise his voice over anything – not even while we were in the backyard and came close to some dangerous conversation topics. He definitely had issues with his dad – though I couldn't relate much because…well, my parents were dead, and I wasn't rich. I had no idea how that world worked. Even with all that aside, he didn't seem like the type to really get mad at anything or anyone – which only made me realize that his relationship with his dad was way worse than I could even imagine.

…Man, I couldn't even tell whether today was sucking for me or not. I got what I wanted, but it had been more than I'd bargained for at the same time. Not to mention, one of Ven's old wounds had just been reopened, and that wasn't cool – no matter how ridiculously emo this guy was sounding right now. I may be an asshole, but I still know where to draw the line most of the time.

"It had to be him," Ven continued furiously. "It has to be. He had to be the one who decided to keep us from meeting each other. I don't know what kind of person your dad was, Vanitas, but he couldn't have been as bad as _him_."

I sighed. "I honestly don't remember very well what he was like, either," I admitted. "I mean, I was nine years old when it happened, and I didn't get to spend too much time with him because of my mom – and I gotta say, she was a total drunk."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. She would drink in the morning, during the day, and right before she went to bed. She always went into drunken rages – I couldn't see it, obviously, but I could hear it. And I think that was the only time in my life that I was grateful to be blind."

It was so weird, talking to him about such a personal event like it was nothing, but…that's what it felt like. I guess people act differently towards each other once they realize they're related, and not necessarily by blood. I was just talking to another member of the family about my problems, which actually felt kind of nice. My grandpa wasn't really someone I felt comfortable confiding in (for obvious reasons) so I was grateful for Ven being here. Not to mention that the old man kept this huge secret from us for nine years, but at least this time he didn't wave it off like he usually did.

"That must've been scary," Ven commented. His voice was quiet.

I managed a chuckle, but it sounded weak. "No kidding. She hated me like the plague, so it's practically a miracle that she didn't beat me up." I scratched my spiky hair. "I guess maybe that was because of my dad. I'm not too sure, but it's possible. I mean, I obviously couldn't have avoided being beaten up on my own, right? Because of the whole sight issue." I tightened my fist around my cane. "And at that point in time, Gramps was living with you."

"I see…" He paused briefly. "I'm sorry."

"Seriously, that's getting on my nerves," I said with a put-upon sigh. "You've got nothing to be sorry for."

"Well, you kind of make it hard for me to not say sorry," he retaliated. "You look scary when you're mad."

"Do I?" Well, what do you know. Another set of tools I can place in my skills inventory. Thanks for that, Ven.

"Yeah. I'd tell you to look in a mirror, but you can't."

"Oh, real funny," I said sourly. Had he always been this sarcastic? "Don't get complacent with me just because we found out we're cousins, you idiot."

Ven chuckled. "Who's the one getting complacent?"

"I'm still exactly the same!"

"Sure you are."

I sat up. "You know what, get out. Let those stupid guards catch you and see if I care."

"Sheesh, that's not very nice," he noted in mock surprise. I swear, this guy makes no sense to me! And we were supposed to be _related? _"I thought you cared about what happens to me, Vanitas."

"Yeah, there are times when I care for your well-being, but now's not one of those times. And since where were you Sir Sarcastic?"

"Oh, for a while now. I've had lots of practice."

I scoffed. "Why am I not surprised?" I muttered under my breath.

"Man, you _are_ a party pooper. Grandpa was right about you."

"Wh-what? How did you know that?! I don't remember him telling you anything!"

"He didn't." His tone suddenly turned superior. "But you did just tell me!"

I felt my face go slack. This guy couldn't be for real. I had no idea how his mind worked. I didn't know whether I should put 'innocent' or 'sly' on my list of descriptions for him. He practically took after Gramps!

And the sad part? I could tell how he was family. I don't know if that made me weird, or vice versa, but we were obviously a crazy family in all senses of the phrase. Do you have a cousin or sibling this weird? If that's so, then you have my deepest sympathies. They can be tough to deal with sometimes, aren't they? They can get incredibly frustrating and confusing sometimes in a way that makes you want to kick them out a window and into the street, but you keep them around anyway. It's complicated, huh?

I rubbed my forehead and sighed in defeat. "It's official. You guys exist solely to mess with me. I give up. You win."

"Oh, come now, Vanitas," my grandpa said with a hearty guffaw. "You were the only one of us seeing this as a competition, no?"

You're not helping, Gramps. "Quit making it worse, old man."

"I'm not the one making things worse, my boy! You are the one twisting it that way."

"Argh!" I flopped backward against the couch. "Forget it! I'm done talking!"

The two of them laughed at my little outburst. It wasn't condescending (at least I thought it wasn't), but it still ticked me off anyway. I've been played with every day of this week so far, so I do beg your pardon if my patience has worn a bit thin. It's not like that was my fault.

But right now I was too spent to retaliate any further. Talking to these two seriously drained me of my energy and my head felt completely empty. Too much had happened in such a short span of time, and I seriously needed a break.

I was about to sit up and announce that I was going to take a midday nap (even though I hadn't eaten yet) when a deafening crash slammed our front door open.

* * *

_Does Ven sound emo near the middle? If so, I apologize to you guys, too. Vanitas did lampshade it, though, so all's forgiven, right? Right?_

_Anyway, I still owe you guys an actual apology for not updating this story for so long. Lots of things got in the way, and that's about as good as my excuse is going to get. I really hope this chapter managed to compensate at least a little bit. It's quite a dialogue-heavy info dump, huh? Don't worry; I'm not jumping the gun. I have a whole lot more plans in store for these boys (so much, in fact, that I'm afraid that some of you may get mad at me later). This chapter may not be as good as the previous ones since I've been away from this story for a while, but I hope you like it anyway._

_I love you guys and all the support and patience that you give me. Again, thank you so much!_


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